Porphyric Hemophilia
by DefyingPhysix
Summary: After awakening from his 100 year slumber, Mandark faces his greatest challenge yet- convincing the great monster hunter, Dexter, that he is an authentic vampire.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don__'__t own Dexter__'__s Lab, and it is only with the inspiration of 200 Dreams and the green-light of Emo Fox that this thievery was possible! Thanks, guys! „^_^„_

Chapter One.

He could hear the rats skittering through the walls. He could sense their fear- they could smell him, even through the layers of velvet and stone that comprised his sarcophagus. His time of awakening was at hand.

The wooden stake in his chest had all but rotted away, now only the fragments and splinters of ash wood in his wounds. It had taken him a very long time, to gather his sapped strength, willing his trapped mind and still body through the pain, but at last his rebirth was complete. Those human fools should have known more than to think that they could kill an immortal- he would have his revenge.

The first thing he willed into movement was his fingers, as they tightened on the rotted plush stained with dust and cobwebs. He saved his first breath for the fresh air he knew lay outside his confines- _rise! _He commanded himself, for sheer force of will causing the coffin to crack, rubble dusting his ear, _rise, nothing can stop you!_

The rest of his tomb split apart, falling away from his sprawled form like the shells of a bird hatching. His eyes sprang open, every sense intent in the dark, visions of snarling stone beasts hanging over head, dusty, dim light filtering through the tall, stain glass windows. Cold air rushed into his lungs, a spider along with it.

Mandark coughed and sputtered, grimacing as he spat stringy legs from his mouth. He swallowed, making a face and blinking around at his settings.

He knew this place- his family's tomb. He did not know if the Astronomonov family still existed, from when he could remember, he had been the last heir to their baronage. Before they had hunted him down, before… all of it had happened.

He had hoped his first meal after so long a hunger would be something more fitting than a spider, but already his body was reacting, with the lack of nutrients. He was trembling and quaking with weakness, his stomach gnawing at him for relief. He had to find someone, someone that could provide him with the warmth of life that he had existed so long without.

It was time to feed.

He didn't have the energy to shift his form, and only laid perfectly still for a few moments, gathering his strength. Slowly, he rose to his feet, standing over his prison, gazing over the bleak and lonely landscape of his families' graves, still adorned with their jewels and gold. His presence there must have preserved the mausoleum from looters, spared his family from the disgrace that had befallen so many ancient powers at the hands of undeserving peasants.

Not that he cared much. He had long before taken the name Astronomonov for his own, and he was certain that now, after so much time had passed, it was known for little else.

_Vampir Astronomanov._ The immortal one. The baron that had struck fear into the minds of his people, they had given him anything he wanted, just to keep him from stealing their children from their beds. He supposed it had taken some guts, for them to rise up against him, and the fact that they had been able to capture him in the first place was nothing short of astounding. But what had really stumped him, in all the years he had been laying in his own, personal hell…

Who had known his weakness?

Who had told these simpletons _how_?

He needed blood. And then, revenge.

xXx

_Himalayan range- 3 days later. _

He checked the altimeter, then the twitching hands of his pocket watch. He was quick to stow both of them back into the leather folds of his parka, he didn't need them getting frozen. The time had to be just right- he had waited too many months and braved the worst storms he had ever seen for this moment, and he had to be sure… it was the certainty of the right moment that had been keeping him alive. And timing meant everything, in his line of work.

The quiet was broken only by the steady creaking of the ropes; cold, inky lines against the absolute blue of the sky. Even the brasswork of his instruments seemed dull and dirty, against the backdrop of virgin snow. He knew that he had to keep high, for his zeppelin to remain unseen, but the currents of the wind were to blame, for dragging him so dangerously close to the cliffs. His altitude was lower than he intended- but it was an opportunity that he simply refused to miss.

"Captain?"

"In a moment, Douglas." Dexter raised his binoculars to squint through them, frowning for a moment as he had to push his fur-lined leather goggles onto his forehead. He settled them back into place after he had finished his sweep of the mountain pass far below them, shading his eyes from the glare of the snow.

"But Captain-"

"Pass the word, Douglas- Everyone to stations, and I want silence, on deck."

Douglas did not hesitate, leaning down to the ship controls before them, his lips nearly touching the brass mouthpiece of the communication tube, "Stations! Silence on deck!"

Dexter was pulling his harness into place over his fur and leather coverings, tightening the straps across his chest as he addressed Douglas once more, "How many for the drop?"

"Just you and I, Captain."

Dexter nodded, "You should get suited up, then."

Douglas paused, blinking as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes and searched the bleak range before them, "I- I don't see anything, Captain."

Dexter smiled, his nose bright red in the numbing cold, "Sometimes, you don't have to."

Douglas shook his head, stooping to gather his harness and pull it around his tall, lanky form, "Whatever you say, Captain."

"Bring us around three degrees north east," Dexter commanded into the mouthpiece, his breath condensing into tiny beads of moisture on the metal, "Ready cannons for boom-shot."

A faint "Aye aye, Captain," was scratchy, from the deck speaker, and he ignored it as he gathered his pack and clipped it on to the front of his harness, Douglas watching him, "When I give the command, fire cannons on aft deck. Make sure those idiots fire _around_ me- if that boom-shot hits me I'm deaf for life. Give my drop line about nine and a half seconds- you know the drill."

"Captain," Douglas questioned, making him pause. Dexter arched a brow at him with a flat frown, and Douglas cracked a smile, snapping the drop line onto his harness between his shoulders, "Just be careful."

Dexter stepped to the side of the ship, squinting down at the valley far below. His gloved fingers gripped the hand rails, the slight feeling of vertigo seizing him as the words "Fire cannons," left his lips.

He did not hear Douglas repeat his command as he leapt away from the ship, plunging into the abyss. His breath was forced back in his nostrils, wind roaring in his ears as he plummeted, his hood ripped away from his head and his ears exposed to the icy air. He counted his heartbeats, even as they grew faster- there was an unsettling tug, the leather straps tightening around his torso, and his parachute tore away from his back, his decent slowing rapidly as he floated for a few moments, before the air currents took him.

His hearing had cleared by the time the boom-shot had jostled free the snow on the mountain with a clap of sound, and he watched the twin rivers of white rush beneath him, meeting at the bottom of the ravine to leave a wide strip of undisturbed snow.

_There._

Dexter hauled at the ropes of his chute, twisting in the wind to zig-zag toward his prey- a large, hairy, white figure that he guessed at seven feet tall. The creature, too distracted by the currents of the avalanche on either side, did not see him as he gained speed, two meters away, one…

Dexter detached from his chute, giving a cry as he collided with the creature, sending it sprawling into the snow as he landed atop it. The sour smell of sweat and stale blood filled his nostrils, and his hand shot into his pack, seizing-

The creature returned from its daze with a bellow of surprise and contempt, its body shifting under Dexter's small form as muscles expanded and contracted under matted white hair. Dexter exclaimed as he scrambled for a grip on the monster's chest, his hand at last drawing out what he had been searching for- a steel-link collar, a wireless receiver attached to one end. If he could get it around the creature's neck, he could control it.

His grip failed, and he slid into the snow with a hard landing, slightly stunned. The creature rose up, looming over him as it gave another guttural cry, at its aggressor, baring long, large fangs as wide nostrils flared, and it bared down on Dexter.

Dexter gave a cry and moved to scramble away, as the monster's massive hand closed on his shoulder, dirty, claw-like fingernails pinching through his protective coverings. He flung snow up, at the creature's eyes, and it turned its flat face away with another snarl.

"Captain!" Douglas had arrived on seen, and he lifted the butt of his hunting rifle to slam the creature in the head.

"Don't shoot!" Dexter cried, "We need it alive!" He winced as claws finally met flesh, scraping deep into his shoulder. His fingers seized the collar in the snow, and his free hand snapped the length of links up, across the back of the creature's neck. Douglas was on the monster, his rifle across the creature's throat as Dexter struggled the clip into place. His hand dove into his pack again, and he gripped the remote, jamming down the button.

The creature retracted with a roar, releasing Dexter as Douglas dropped from its back. Blue sparks of electricity passed over fur as the monster pried at the collar, only to receive another shock.

Panting, Dexter released the button.

The shocking abated, and the creature calmed, eyeing Dexter and Douglas warily. Then, it turned to run.

Dexter jammed the button down again, and the creature collapsed into the snow, twitching. Douglas helped Dexter to his feet, and they approached the creature, "My god," Douglas exclaimed breathlessly, "It's no Yeti at all! It's- it looks like some new species of gorilla!"

"There are no such things as monsters, Douglas," Dexter replied, holding his bloody shoulder, "You know that. Everything has a rational explanation- all we've got to do is find it." he pressed the remote into Douglas' hand, striking a stray lock of orange hair from his face, "Hail the _Demeter_ and bring the beast aboard. I'll study and classify after I've patched myself up."

Douglas was muttering to himself as Dexter tramped away, "Metaphysics, indeed!"

xXx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two.

"Did you manage to capture the Yeti alive?"

"It was no Yeti, Mr. Tesla. From what I can surmise, it appears to be a large, albino ape, _Primus Albus Erectus, _yet unknown to science. Your collar worked flawlessly, sir."

Tesla chuckled, a smile on his black-and white face, his image slightly fuzzy over Dexter's OptiVisor screen, "But I see that it may be advisable to commandeer a more effective method of application."

Dexter glanced down, lifting his arm out of sling, "It looks worse that it is, Mr. Tesla. I should be healed in no time." He shifted the sling on his shoulder, "And in any case, it's nice to have this expedition under my belt. All of this Yeti nonsense can come to an end…"

"Do you plan on telling the residence?"

"Like always."

"They won't be pleased, Dexter. The Scots weren't pleased about Nessy, the Americans weren't pleased about Sequatchie… some of them think you're destroying their culture. I don't know why you won't stop all of this Metaphysics nonsense and come back to work for me…"

"Even the ignorant deserve the truth," Dexter said a bit shortly, "You know why I left, Mr. Tesla. This world is filled with lies, and science is the only thing that can clear the world of ignorant fear… and if I must be the harbinger of an unpleasant enlightenment, so be it."

"Dexter." Dexter looked up expectantly, and Tesla smiled again, "Good job."

Dexter blushed slightly, "Thank you, sir."

"And now you are headed back to London?" Tesla continued, and Dexter nodded, "I was sorry to hear of your sister's illness. What are the circumstances of her condition?"

"Knowing Dee Dee, it's probably nothing more than the common cold," Dexter scoffed, "But I promised to see her for Christmas, and that's long passed. This may be a cry for attention, with mother and father having sold the mechanized textile mills… I guess they're living at the spring cottage in Bath, and she's left to her own at University."

"Sounds lonely," Tesla agreed, "But you'll be glad to be home, won't you?"

Dexter smirked, "Yes, sir. At least, until the crew can get some leave and I can repair the _Demeter._ And… perhaps sweep it out a bit, the thing was shedding hair everywhere…" Tesla looked slightly ill, and Dexter was quick to add, "I'm sorry, sir, I know of your , ah, aversion to hair…"

Tesla shook his head quickly to in dismissal, "No matter. How long will you be, in London?"

"Not long, sir. Well, hopefully. Enough to restock and repair the ship- Rumors have reached me about a sea monster off the cost of Maine by the name of Mocha-"

"Take your time, Dexter," Tesla warned, "you've been too long, on this last expedition. If you keep pressing things as they are, your crew is likely to jump ship."

Dexter looked slightly indignant, "My crew is loyal to me, Mr. Tesla…"

"Then reward them for it. Stay a while, in London," Dexter made a face, and Tesla smiled again, "I'm sure you'll find something to entertain yourself, don't worry."

Dexter hung his head with a sigh, bowing to the wishes of his mentor, "Yes, sir."

xXx

"Sir! London dock, ho!"

He could hear the joy, in the sailor's voice, and it made his face gather with distaste, as he turned away from his instruments and maps, pushing his lenses back onto his nose, "All hands on deck," he murmured, and the sailor nodded, hurrying away.

Dexter rose from his seat, scooping up his list of supplies and stuffing it in his pocket. He knew that it would be three months, to have the order completely filled, as long as he had resolved to stay, in London. He tugged his heavy, white, wool greatcoat onto his shoulders, straightening his armband- onyx black, embroidered with a silver globe on a twelve-tooth cogwheel, the symbol of the Scientific Order of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. He and his crew had to be in uniform, when they met dock- the port police couldn't afford another air pirate plot. He was straightening his royal purple silk neck cravat at his throat as he emerged from his quarters, most of his crew on the wide deck of the ship, whispering to one another excitedly.

"You look sharp as a tack, Gov," Douglas said quietly into his ear, and Dexter jumped slightly. Douglas chuckled, straightening, "Captain on deck!"

The noise abated immediately, the crew lining themselves along the sides as Dexter stepped amidst them, Douglas at his injured shoulder, "Gentleman," Dexter started, "London is in our midst. This journey has been one of our longest- I commemorate all of you, for your loyal services." He paused, "You have all worked very hard. This leave is well deserved. In only an hour, you will all be free to move about the city as you please- well, as free as you can, with the port authorities what they are," he smiled as his men chuckled and elbowed each other, "And I'm certain that your pay is positively burning you like hellfire, to be spent. I only wish to thank you, gentlemen, for your continued loyalty. Don't get into too much trouble," he grinned, and raised his gloved hand, "prepare for port!"

The loud grunt of "Aye!" was unanimous, as the men set so their stations, grins broad, and Douglas set his hand on Dexter's shoulder, nodding.

Dexter strode to his place at the bow, placing his boot on the side to gaze out, the long, jagged shoreline of London like shattered glass against the iron-colored waves of the sea far below. To the port and starboard sides of the _Demetre_, humming, pill-shaped, silver-coloured gunships ran even with the deck, protection against any suspicious ships seeking to dock.

It all looked like a doldrums, to him.

Wind whipped up the hems of his greatcoat, and he looked up as he caught the sounds of his crew singing- off tune and gruff, but still beautiful;

_Arms aching, backs breaking, legs aching, neck,_

_ And this whole ruddy ship is a huge creaking wreck_

_ Flown ten thousand miles with this thorn in our sides_

_ Thought the wind's steady, strong, with no clouds in the skies._

Dexter returned his eyes to London, his voice nearly silent as he carefully articulated the old rhyme with them,

_ The ropes creaking, ships leaking, sails are on fire,_

_ And this whole bloody ship could go up like a pyre_

_ We've got smiles on our faces, but we've seen this before_

_ No telling just now, what we have in store._

xXx


End file.
